Opposites
by Grimmijaggers
Summary: Berwald and Mathias are orphans, raised together, lived together. What is Mathias' reaction when Berwald suddenly leaves? Warning: Human names used, NOT YAOI, depressing (I guess) My iGCSE coursework story :3 I got an A* for it w


Opposites

**So this is the story I wrote for my iGCSE, I hope you guys like it~!**

Why do you hate me?

What did I ever do to you, to make you leave me behind, lost, broken and betrayed?

My companion, my friend, my brother.

Why did you leave me?

People say opposites are attracted to each other, like the north and south; I thinks that's partly true.

Both orphans, and raised in an orphanage. Nobody knew about our parents; only that yours were Swedish, and mine Danish.

We grew up together, and a bond was made between us. We promised that we would never betray each other; unlike our parents had done to us.

You _were_ named Berwald, and I'm named Mathias. If people said we were different, that was an understatement. While I'm over enthusiastic, stupid, care free, have a goofy grin on my face and is generally a complete loony; you _were_ serious, smart, sensible, and always _had_ a frowning, expressionless face. We were like the moon and sun, fire and water, the night and day. Complete opposites.

You hardly ever _spoke_, while I chat away like there's no tomorrow. I have bright blonde hair, and lively blue eyes; you _had_ pale blonde hair, almost ash coloured, and ocean blue eyes. My hair sticks up naturally, and is a rebel against gravity; your hair _was_ always neatly brushed. I don't wear glasses, while you _did_. We were complete opposites, but we cared for each other, and we loved each other as brothers.

Or I did at least.

We were let out the orphanage, at the mad age of eighteen, we moved to Copenhagen.

We did random part time jobs, and went to a cheap university. We weren't rich, but we were together, supporting each other. We were happy.

Or I was at least.

I was happy to be with my lifelong friend, to help you, and happy that you helped me. I felt like nothing could get better.

So why? Why? Why?! Why did you leave?!

You just left one day, leaving a simple note saying: "You are not my brother. I don't need you. I'm going to Sweden, good bye."

No more, no less.

You couldn't even tell it right to my face. If you had done that, then maybe I wouldn't have so felt torn apart, so pathetic and useless!

After a while of course, I forgave you. But I never heard of you again. I lived my life for nine years, wondering if you would ever bother to tell me where you were, or how you were doing.

Life is cruel. In every way.

Life isn't fair. Life isn't supposed to make you die. Life isn't supposed to make you want to die. It's supposed to let you live. Isn't it? That's what I thought at least.

I wonder, Berwald, why you never bothered to call me. Why you made me worried like a mother worries for her son gone at war. Did you ever care how I felt? Did you ever take me as your brother?

Why did you break the promise we made each other? Why did you runaway?

Every day of every year, I've been asking myself these questions, over and over again. Anything makes me remember something about us. On sunny days, I remembered when we used to play games outside. In cold evenings I remember the Christmases we had. On stormy nights I remember how I, as a child, would cuddle up to, searching comfort from the thunder. On rainy days, I remember how my life fell apart, piece by piece, when you left.

The last I'll ever hear of you, is from a man of the Swedish army. Now.

"Mr Mathias Kohler?" a man in a blue uniform stands in front of Mathias' apartment door. The man's voice is covered by a thick Swedish accent as he speaks Danish.

"Y-yes? Can I help you?" The man in the uniform frowns slightly. His eyes glimmer with sadness.

"I am from the Swedish army. I am here to give you the news that Admiral Berwald Oxenstierna has recently deceased."

Time seems to stop, the Danish man at loss of words, his brain not registering the news.

"W-what do you mean 'deceased'?" The man looks at him with a sympathetic look; he knows how Mathias feels.

"'deceased' as in 'died'. He died in action to be precise. He was an exceptional marine. It is a great loss to us." Mathias just sands there, frozen, as the words slowly, but unwillingly register themselves into his mind. Mathias feels a wave of sadness come over him, like the waves that crash onto the cliffs' rocks. The man from the Swedish marine sighs. "We will be having his funeral in Stockholm. You are welcome to join the event if you wish. Goodbye Mr Kohler." The Swedish man nods as a goodbye, leaving a stunned Mathias on the doorstep. The blonde man slowly closes the door, and when it has closed with a soft click, he collapses to his knees.

"Oh Berwald…why didn't you tell me…?" He mutters.

People say 'a real man doesn't cry', but Mathias is definitely a man, and is definitely crying.

It's raining. A man wearing a black coat is staring, without seeing, at a tombstone, the name 'Berwald Oxenstierna' written in black letters. Mathias crouches, so that he is at the same level as the tombstone. He sets a small bouquet of white roses on the grave. He raises his head and smiles at the tombstone.

"Hey Berwald, you probably don't care I'm here, but I just wanted to say: Even though you're dead, even though you betrayed me, even though you left me behind; I still love you, brother.

When I came to your funeral, they let me have a minute with you, alone. When I touched your face, it was cold; but you looked so peaceful, and happy.

I know you probably still hate me, wherever you are. But that doesn't matter.

_Jeg elsker dig bror._"

I love you brother. Goodbye.

**Depressing isn't it? Well, I hope you liked it! Please tell me what you think about it!**

**Den: When have I ever cried?**

**Me: In my story.**

**Den: YEAH APART FROM THAT?!**

**Sve: St'p b'ing so l'od. G''d st'ry. B't wh' do I h've to die?**

**Me: Just to make it more dramatic :3**


End file.
